


Like a...

by asamandra



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Prompt Fill, assassin skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asamandra/pseuds/asamandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Clint uses his assassin skills for non-standard reasons and the one time he's using them for their intended purpose</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ... spider

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt on avengerkink: [Clint+team, Assassin Skills](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/18271.html?thread=41801311#t41801311)
> 
> Everyone knows Natasha is dangerous in close quarters, but sometimes I think people forget Clint can do more than just shoot arrows. A lot more, actually.
> 
> I'd like to see a 5+1 fic where Clint uses his assassin skills for non-standard reasons. It would be great if they could be humorous, but ultimately that's up to the filler.
> 
> These are just some suggestions, but I was thinking along the lines of various team members being with him while he...  
> -sneaks up behind someone just to be funny  
> -sets up an intricate trap as a prank  
> -enters through a window rather than a door  
> -uses a shady contact to get something really weird or hard to find, maybe for Tony's experiment or just an ingredient for Bruce to cook a special meal  
> -brings a teammate to a safe house/bolt hole to grab something (a book, his favorite shirt, maybe something happened to their clothes and they need an emergency change
> 
> Bonus if the +1 is for him using his assassin skills for their intended purpose, saving Pepper, Darcy, or one of his teammates before the others reacted to a threat.

He hadn't seen Jane in what felt like ages. Months ago he had to travel to Asgard and his father sent him to the other realms to fulfill tasks any other warrior at court could have done. But Thor was sure that it was to keep him away from Midgard, away from Jane. He obeyed at first but when it became too evident that he tried to hold him off he went to talk to him. Odin denied it strenuously and it didn't take long and both had another fight. Thor glared furiously at him and left the palace, the city and Asgard.

And now he was back in New York. Jane wanted to celebrate his return and they went to have dinner together. She even had convinced him to wear one of those ridiculous suits men on Midgard often wore and he felt uncomfortable in this clothing. But they had a nice evening and a nice walk through the park and now they were in his living room, heavily kissing and fumbling with the unfamiliar clothes and opening the door to the bedroom at the same time when Jane suddenly screamed. She stared out of the window, a hand slapped over her mouth and she screamed. Thor had Mjölnir in his hand in an instant and wanted to defend her from whatever danger lured outside.

But there was no danger outside. It was Clint Barton, hanging upside down in front of his window and angling for something on the very small sill. And apparently he had realized that Thor was at home and grinned and waved at him.

Thor tore the window open. “By Odin's beard. What are you doing there!” He yelled at him and Clint cocked his head.

“Oh, you can open your windows? Hi Jane, by the way,” he smiled and waved.

“Yes, I can open my windows. Tony said it's cheaper than to replace them each time.”

“And he didn't tell me. Bastard.” Clint muttered.

“Would you please explain to me why you hang upside down in front of my window?” Clint grabbed the frame and with something that looked like a somersault he jumped into the room, turned around and grabbed the item on the sill. The wind had tousled his hair and his clothes but he still grinned and unclipped the carabiner on his vest.

“I was with Tony on his deck and we had this... well... argument about me writing everything in purple. And he just grabbed my pen and threw it over the railing. Luckily a blast of air hit it and it landed on your sill.”

“You climbed along the building to get a pen?” Thor furrowed his brows.

“It's my favorite pen.” Clint shrugged and put it in his pocket. He looked from Thor to a really, really pale Jane, back to Thor and their half removed clothes and then he blushed.

“Uhm... sorry for... you know...” he gestured vaguely and wanted to grab the window frame again.

“We have a door!” Thor bellowed and Clint blushed even more.

“Oh yeah. Right. Sorry for the...” he closed his mouth and went to the door and disappeared.

“What the heck was that?” Jane was still pale like a sheet.

“Don't ask. Just... just don't ask.”


	2. ... spy

Bruce had lived all over the world and in all different accomodations. And that included a luxury apartment at Stark Tower, a typical, all-American house in the suburbs as well as a small nook in a slum of a third world country or hiding in some caves only god knew where. And wherever he was, he loved to do one thing. Collecting recipes. It didn't matter if the people he met were rich like Tony Stark or poor like a church mouse, they all have one thing in common. They eat. Some more, some less. But whenever he ate something he liked he asked for the recipe. The only problem was to get the sometimes really exotic ingredients.

One of his absolute favorites was Samloh Mah Chu Kroung Sat Goh Chia Mui Traguan, a recipe he had gotten from an old Cambodian woman. And he really wanted to cook it for his friends. But the only problem was to get Prahok. The good stuff. In all the Asian food shops he'd been they had Prahok but it was like a badly done copy. He knew only one shop in Sihanoukville, Cambodia, where they had really good Prahok, the one made of gourami fish and not some cheap ersatz. And there it's fermented for three years and not only twenty days like the stuff they tried to sell him here.

So, after a few weeks of searching he had given up much to the regret of the team because he always waxed lyrical when he talked about this dish.

About two weeks later, it was before midnight, Clint knocked at his door.

“You need to come with me,” he looked at him conspiratorial.

“What? Now? It's... it's fucking late!” Bruce already wore his pajamas and a comfortable sweater. He just wanted to finish a chapter in the book he currently read.

“Yes, it's urgent. Come on.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Clint looked at his watch. “Stop stalling, we have a schedule.”

“What do you mean we have a schedule? I don't...” Bruce frowned and folded his arms in front of his chest.

“You won't be sorry,” Clint shrugged and grinned.

“Fine,” Bruce huffed after a few seconds when he realized that Clint didn't intend to go away. He replaced his pajama pants with jeans and his knitted wool socks with sneakers and followed Clint down to the garage where he handed him a helmet.

“You want me to ride with you on your bike?” Bruce stared disbelievingly.

“Yeah.” Clint furrowed his brows a second but then he grinned and put his own helmet on.

“If I or the other guy accidentally kill you, don't blame me. It's entirely your fault.”

“Sure. And now, chop chop, we're in a hurry.” With a theatrical sigh Bruce mounted the bike behind Clint. He closed his eyes and clung to him while Clint sped through the streets – Bruce didn't look, he held his eyes closed and controlled his breath – and not long after they were at Port Newark.

Clint parked his bike in a nook and sneaked with Bruce in tow through the rows of containers, he always hid in the darkness and stopped moving when he saw dockworkers.

“Where are we going anyway?” Bruce whispered and then he wanted to slap himself for whispering. This was ridiculous.

“Shh... He's here,” Clint also whispered and pointed at one of the ships but Bruce only saw containers. On the other hand, there was a reason why Clint got called Hawkeye.

“Who's here?” Bruce asked but Clint only grabbed his arm and dragged him to the next dark corner. Then he finally saw a man, coming down from one of the freighters. He was Asian, Bruce could see. And he carried a rucksack over his shoulder.

Clint greeted the man in a language Bruce didn't understand. But if he had to guess he'd say it was Thai. They talked about a minute and then, after looking around carefully, the man opened his rucksack and handed a small package to Clint.

 _Holy mother of god!_ Bruce thought. It looked like drugs. But Clint didn't do drugs, did he? Maybe it was something different. Poison? He's an assassin, right?

Clint turned and handed the package to Bruce. “This the right stuff?” he asked and Bruce didn't want to take it at first but when Clint raised his brow he finally took it and looked at it. It was rectangular and wrapped in foil and a banana leaf.

“What is that?” he asked and stared at the younger with wide eyes.

“You have to open it and tell me if this is the right stuff,” Clint repeated and with wavering hands he removed the foil and the banana leaf and a familiar but exotic scent hit his nose and then he saw... Prahok. He sniffed at it and then he took a small bite. Yes, _this_ was the good stuff.

“That's Prahok,” Bruce said and cocked his head.

“I know what it is but is it... you know... not the fake one? The one you need?” Clint raised his brow and Bruce slowly nodded.

“Yeah, definitely,” he murmured and with another grin Clint took an envelope out of the back pocket of his pants, gave it to the man and got the rucksack in exchange. They talked another few minutes but then the man hurried back onto his ship.

“What the heck was that?” Bruce asked and Clint patted his shoulder.

“Oh, you seemed to be so unhappy not to be able to cook that... thingy... you know. And I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who owed me a favor and I called a few people and... ta-da!”

“This is crazy!” Bruce still stared at him.

“You don't like it?” Clint's face crumpled.

“What? No! No, I definitely like it. It's just... all the effort only to get Prahok?”

And then Clint's face lit up again. “It's okay. If it makes you happy.” He grinned, turned and sneaked back to this bike.

“Hey, Clint. Thank you.”


	3. ... drowning rat

It should be an easy mission. And it would have been if the intel had been correct. But someone had been sloppy and now Clint and Natasha were in Boston without weapons, comms, money and dry clothes. They only managed to escape those AIM fuckers with a jump from their ship into the freezing cold Boston harbor.

They were dripping wet and really, really pissed off. Natasha cursed in Russian for about the last ten minutes while they walked away from the water and the late November weather wasn't helpful at all.

“Where are we?” she asked when she realized that he led her in a specific direction.

“Seaport District,” Clint only said and looked over his shoulder but it seemed no one was following them.

“Okay, that much I've discovered myself but where are we going to?”

“South Boston,” Clint shrugged but she could clearly see that he felt uncomfortable.

“And what is in South Boston?” Natasha stopped for a moment and looked around but no one was there.

“Bolton Street.”

“It's like trying to squeeze blood out of a stone,” she huffed and threw her hands in the air in frustration.

“You'll see when we're there and now move, I'm freezing my ass off in these wet clothes,” Clint said and looked at her with raised brow. But he didn't wait for another comment, he just turned and continued his way.

 

 

They were shivering from the cold when they entered a backyard in Bolton Street and Clint went to the fence, bent down to grab something and came back a few seconds later. They went to a door and now Natasha saw what Clint had in his hand. The keys. He opened the door, led her up a few flights and then unlocked another door, disarmed the security system – Stark Tech, she realized – shoved her in and armed it again right after closing the door.

It was a really small apartment, just a combined living- and bedroom with kitchenette and a small bathroom through the only other door.

“You can shower first,” Clint said when he saw Natasha's blue lips and pointed with his chin at the door. Thankfully she went in and as small as the apartment was, as small was the bathroom. Just a shower cubicle, a toilet, a sink with a mirror above and a cabinet. She turned on the shower and then opened the cabinet where she found towels, a first aid kit, some body care products in tiny bottles with the logos of different hotels from all over the world on them. She took a shower gel, a shampoo and one of the incredible fluffy towels and stepped into the cubicle. It was heaven on earth to feel the hot water on her skin and she sighed audible. At one point she heard Clint open the door and closed it a second later again. She wanted to stay under the hot spray forever but she knew that Clint was as cold as she was and he sure as hell wanted to shower as well. She wrapped the towel around her body and wanted to leave the bathroom when she recognized the items on the sink. A jeans, a t-shirt, a sweater, undies, socks. Dry clothes. _Her_ dry clothes. Stunned Natasha stared at the things. That was the shirt she was looking for for months! She always had thought it got lost and now it lay here in Boston in one of Clint's bolt holes. She pursed her lips but put on the clothes.

“I've made some tea,” Clint said as soon as she was back in the other room and he pointed at a steaming mug at the small table. There was another mug but it was already empty. Clint entered the bathroom before she could say anything and a few seconds later she heard the water run again. In the meantime he had placed a soft blanket on the couch and she wrapped herself up in it and took a sip of the tea. Warm from the outside, warm from the inside and she started to feel drowsy. But then her eyes landed on the dresser beside the couch and while Clint was still showering she opened it. And her eyes went wide when she saw the contents. In neat piles she saw clothes from all of them. Clint's, Steve's, Tony's, Bruce's, hers... even Thor's! She saw the Deep Purple shirt Tony was missing, she saw the hand-knitted sweater Bruce had gotten from Betty, she saw...

“So, you know now where your shirt is.” Clint stood behind her and smiled sheepish.

“You have clothes from all of us here?” She raised her brow but Clint only nodded and looked at his feet.

“Why?”

“For cases like this,” he shrugged.

“How many of those bolt holes do you have?” Natasha furrowed her brows.

“A few.” And in Clint speak this meant quite a few.

“Why... I mean... there's SHIELD and...”

“What if, when there's one day no SHIELD anymore?” Clint interrupted her.

“And... and are all of them stocked like this?”

“No. Not yet,” he grinned and took her empty mug to put it in the sink. “I've called Fury while you were showering,” he pointed at a prepaid phone on the counter, “They get us tomorrow.”

“Does SHIELD know about this apartment?” Natasha sat back on the couch, patted the empty space beside her and Clint came over, sat down and she pulled the blanket over both of them.

“No. Only you know now. So... we can watch TV,” he pointed at the small set, “or – and that's what I'd prefer right now – we can go to sleep.”

“Sleep sounds good,” Natasha nodded and with a few experienced movements the couch was turned into a bed, big enough for the two of them. Clint threw all the cushions on one side and took a few more blankets out of the dresser.

“Do you have...” Natasha started and Clint grinned.

“End table.” He pointed at the piece of furniture beside the bed. It had a drawer and when Natasha opened it she saw two SIGs and a few magazines. With a smile she took one, put the magazine in and placed it under her cushion and handed the other one and a magazine to Clint who did the same.

He switched off the light, laid down beside Natasha and pulled the blanket over them.

“Night.”


	4. ... ninja

No one could say that Steve was easily startled. Because he wasn't. Not even when he was nothing more than a small weed he wasn't easy to scare. He was born and raised in Brooklyn at a time where one couldn't afford to be scared shitless all the time. 

And then Dr. Erskine asked him if he wanted to be part of Project Rebirth. That changed everything. He wasn't a tiny runt anymore, he was tall and muscular, stronger than all the others and even his senses were sharpened. He could see and hear better than the average human and got something like a sixth sense if there was something dangerous around him. And he was pretty sure that no one could ever sneak upon him.

Then he met Clint Barton. And everything changed again.

 

 

The first time was an _accident_. Jarvis had told him all of the other Avengers were out of the tower when he finally decided to try out the new easel and the oil colors Tony had bought a few weeks ago. He had placed it on the deck where he had a perfect view over the city and started to paint. He was relaxed, felt the sun on his skin and just tried to get the complex window front of one of the buildings correctly done. He leaned close to the canvas and dabbed with a small brush.

“Hey, Steve, have you seen...” he suddenly and out of the blue heard Clint's voice behind him. And for the first time in his life he jerked. He jerked so violently that he smeared the paint all over the canvas and the painting was ruined.

“Aww, picture! Sorry, dude... I didn't mean to startle you.” 

“You didn't startle me. I was just...” he gestured vaguely at the canvas so he couldn't see the grin appearing on Clint's face.

“So... have you seen Stark? I owe him a revenge for the thing with the purple goo.” 

Steve turned and looked at the archer, raised his brow and sighed.

“No, haven't seen him.” 

“Okay, thanks man. And hey, sorry for the picture. It was nice before you... you know.”

 _Painting, not picture_ , Steve grumbled inwardly and stared at the canvas if there was a chance to save the picture... painting!

 

 

He was pretty sure that the next time was deliberately. It was three days after the first incident and he was in the small office he could use at SHIELD-HQ when there were too much disturbances at home with the rest of the team. Sometimes he just came over to do the paperwork Coulson wants them to do after a mission and even if he not really was a member of SHIELD, he didn't complain and filled in the reports.

“Hey, Steve.” And Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Once again the voice from Barton. And he didn't hear the door, didn't hear the steps on the floor and he hadn't sensed him in any other way he usually could sense the presence of persons. He just appeared beside the desk and looked at him, innocently smiling. Only the report he had written had a huge coffee stain on it now because he also had knocked over his mug. 

“Clint, for the love of god, can you please stop doing this?” he snapped and Clint raised a brow.

“Sorry,” he said but Steve could clearly see that he didn't mean it. He seemed too amused. “Stark just called and said, that he needs your input on the new uniform for you.” 

“And he couldn't call me?” 

“He said he tried but you ignored him.” Clint shrugged and flopped down at the chair on the other side of the desk. Steve raised his brow and looked at his phone. Fourteen missed calls from Tony. 

“I'll call him back.” He sighed and crumpled the ruined form in front of him.

“Do that, man.” Clint smirked, rose and patted his shoulder on his way out of the office. 

 

 

The next time, two days later, he was in the communal kitchen, cooking one of the stews his mother often had made, and Tony sat at the breakfast table and cut vegetables. He chattered and chattered and Steve had blocked him out twenty minutes ago. He just leaned over the pot to taste the stew when he heard a voice behind him.

“Hey, Steve,” Clint said. And Steve dropped the spoon into the stew and cursed silently under his breath. 

“Did I startle you?” He asked and cocked his head and Steve stared at him.

“No. I just didn't expect you.” He said.

“What's that? It smells delicious.” 

“It's a stew. My mom had made it when I was a boy and I loved it.” 

“Cool.” Clint nodded and left the kitchen and Steve tried to get the spoon out of the hot stew without burning his fingers.

 

 

It had happened a few more times in the next two weeks and Steve got slightly paranoid. Whenever he was alone he suddenly looked up and over his shoulder. But Clint still managed to startle him. When he was in the gym, when he was reading, sometimes even when he was in company of another Avenger or SHIELD-agent. 

Currently he was with Director Fury and the Agents Hill and Sitwell in a conference room, all three hunched over a map and quietly discussing a way to infiltrate a Hydra base without getting caught. 

“You wanted to see me?” He heard _his_ voice behind him and flinched so violently that Fury, Hill and Sitwell stared at him. 

“Everything okay, Steve?” Clint asked innocently and this time he turned and glared at the smaller man.

“Everything would be okay if you could stop startling me all the time!” he snapped and now Clint's grin broadened.

“So, I _did_ startle you?” he asked and the other three agents looked at him. 

“Yes, for heaven's sake, you startled me!” And then something really strange happened. Sitwell groaned, Hill glared at him furiously and Fury pinched the bridge of his nose and all three reached into her pockets and handed Clint some money.

“What...” Steve frowned and Clint patted his shoulder. 

“You have quite a few fans here and they all believed nothing and no one is able to startle you. They bet against me. Guess, I won.” He stuffed the money in his pocket and turned to leave the conference room.

“Where are you going, Barton?” Hill snapped and Clint's grin got even broader.

“Oh, you know... collecting debts from a few other agents, Coulson, Tony, Bruce...” 

“You can do that later. Now you stay and take a look at this map.” Fury snarled and Clint gave him a mock salute.

“Yes, sir.” 

“It was a bet?” Steve asked disbelievingly and Clint winked.

“Of course. You do know that I'm...” 

“Barton! The map!”


	5. ... prankster

Tony really liked Clint. They got along like house on fire from the first moment they met after the Battle of New York. He was funny and had the same sometimes puerile, sometimes morbid sense of humor and he liked to hang around with him. Then they both loved the same movies, the same music and the same computer games. 

But sometimes he also hated the little fucker. All the more since he's in a prank war with him. It started with throwing his favorite pen off of the deck and Tony's last move was purple goo in his shower but for two weeks he hadn't done anything. He just walked around and smiled whenever he saw Tony but... nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. And that _scared_ him more than he wanted to admit. 

Luckily Pepper had _forced_ him to fly to Los Angeles where he had to sit in on quite a few meetings in their California branch. He knew it would be boring as hell but at least he didn't have to see Barton's _evil smirk_ all the time when they met. 

And it was boring. Today he had met all the department chiefs and they told him what they had done the last year and what they planned to do this year. Boring. Most of his time he held his Stark Pad in his hand, pretended to listen to their spiel and to follow on the pad but in fact he worked on a new engine for the helicarrier. Sometimes he nodded or – when one of them accidentally said something of interest – asked a question but the idea to get the engines more effective with less consumption was far more interesting right now. 

Just as the chief of the IT department rose to conduct his presentation Tony's phone beeped. He looked at it and saw an alarm from Jarvis. Apparently someone had entered the house and overwritten his security protocols and was now doing god knows what in _his_ house. 

“Sorry, there's an emergency,” he yelled and off he went.

Why did he take the car to drive here? Why didn't he take the Iron Man suit? He could've been at home by now with the suit. He cursed while he sped back home.

He stopped in front of his door and... and realized that he didn't have a weapon. Only a wrench in his trunk. With the tool in his hand he sneaked to the door and found it closed. Carefully he opened it, looked around but when he didn't see anyone he went in.

“Jarvis?” he whispered but the AI remained silent. “Jarvis?” he tried again to no avail. He couldn't see anyone or anything. Everything here seemed as usual. No knocked over furniture, no torn out drawers, no sign of an intruder at all. The workshop! If someone would break into this house it would be because of his workshop slash lab in the basement! Silently cursing he hurried to the stairs, looked around the corner if someone was there but when he didn't see anyone he sneaked down the stairs. He took a look into the workshop through the glass door but there also wasn't anyone. He swallowed and punched in the code to open the door. It was locked and that was strange. Why would Jarvis send him an alarm when everything seemed to be alright?

But when he stepped into the workshop he saw something that let his blood run cold. On the workbench stood a box with wires sticking out of it. And on the outside was a timer. 

23...22...21...20...

“Shit!” He yelled and spun on his heel, ran back and up the stairs when he felt something wet hitting him and then something soft and after that something powdery but he didn't have time to stop. He ran as fast as possible out of his house, jumped over his car and... saw a flash. And a broadly grinning Clint Barton stood over him, with his phone in his hand. He had taken a photo and... why didn't his house explode? 

“Owned!” Clint winked and still grinned.

“What!?” Tony yelled and finally dared to look at himself. There was purple goo, feathers and glitter powder on him. He stared disbelievingly at Clint while he tried to get up from the ground. “This... this was a prank?”

“Yep!” Clint smirked. “... aaand, sent!” 

“What? Whom did you send that?” 

“Pepper, Natasha, Steve, Bruce, Thor, Phil, Fury and Darcy.” 

Tony still stared at the younger man, at himself, at his house. 

“Okay, see you back in New York!” Clint turned but Tony tried to grab his arm to hold him.

“No way, you stay.” He grumbled but the archer was slippery as an eel and was out of his reach before Tony could get him. 

“Nah, I don't think so. But... truce?” he asked from a safe distance. 

“Yeah, fine.” Tony said after once again looking at himself. And if he was honest, he couldn't hide the grin anymore. This was a master prank! He laughed.

 

 

Later, after cleaning himself, Tony took a look at the trap and he was really impressed. The _bomb_ was only an empty box but the timer got activated when he had opened the door. And the trap had activated a set of other traps on the way up the stairs where he got hit with goo, feathers and glitter. With a shudder Tony had to admit that he was grateful that the archer liked him. It could've been acid, shards of glass or something worse just as well.


	6. ... assassin

Since Tony made her CEO of Stark Industries Pepper often had to work long into the evening. When she looked at her watch and saw that it was past 10 pm she sighed and shut her computer down. She was dead tired and all she wanted was to grab a shower and then fall into her bed, together with Tony. Well, given that he could break away from his newest project to get a few hours of sleep.

She left her office – Marcia, her assistant had left a few hours ago – and went to the elevator. She took her phone and started to type a message to Tony when the cabin arrived. She looked up... and saw a few guys, dressed in black with balaclavas over their heads. Before she could yell they had grabbed her. One guy pressed his hand over her mouth and Pepper managed to press send before the guys threw her phone away. She felt handcuffs around her wrists and a needle in her neck and then the lights went out.

 

 

When she woke up she was in a small, dark and cold room. Her hands were still tied on her back and she felt something over her mouth. Duct tape, she assumed. They had taken her shoes and she felt the cold, tiled floor where she lay at the moment. Carefully she tried to sit up but her head started to spin and she took a deep breath before trying again. It took her a few minutes and she sighed when she sat with her back against the wall. She looked around discovered that the only source of light came from the door, where a small spyhole was embedded. 

Pepper took another deep breath and tried to take stock of herself. She had no shoes, her skirt was torn as were her nylons, she was tied, she was gagged, she had no idea why someone had kidnapped her and where she was. This was... bad. Really bad.

A face, covered with a balaclava looked through the hole in the door, and then the door went open. Someone switched on the light and that hurt like hell in her sensitive eyes. She closed her eyes and turned her head away but then she felt hands on her arms and the guys pulled her up, sat her on a chair and one of them came with a camera. They held a paper in front of her chest – apparently they had watched too many bad movies – and took a photo. 

One of the guys ripped off the duct tape and Pepper heard him open a bottle of water. He held it to her mouth. “Drink,” he ordered and at first she wanted to refuse but her common sense told her to take it. She didn't know when she would get more. The man let her have half of the bottle with a few tiny breaks before he reattached the tape. She wanted to ask him why she was here but the man was faster than her. At least they didn't throw her back onto the floor. 

 

 

She hadn't realized that she fell asleep but when she woke she heard a strange thudding noise from outside of the door. Someone opened it but instead of switching on the light the dark figure sneaked silently over to her. 

“Shh, Pepper. Don't be afraid, it's me, Clint. I'm here to get you out. But you have to be quiet. Okay?” She nodded when she recognized the voice and then she felt a hand removing the tape.

“Are you okay?” Clint asked and Pepper nodded again. 

“Yeah. Where am I?” she whispered while the archer went behind her and a second later she could move her hands again. 

“This is a AIM facility. They kidnapped you because they want to force Tony to build them a weapon.” Clint whispered while he helped her up. 

“Where are the others?” Pepper had realized that he was alone here. 

“I've called them and they are here soon. But now we have to go.” 

“Okay.” The archer sneaked back to the door and Pepper saw a man lying on the ground with his head in a strange angle. He didn't breath. Clint grabbed him and dragged him into the room. He reached behind himself and then he handed Pepper a dagger. 

“Just in case,” he grinned but when he saw that she took it like a cooking knife he shook his head. “No, take it the other way round, with the blade along your arm. If you need to you can stab someone or you can slit him open.” Pepper paled at the casualness he showed her how to kill another human. But Clint saw her expression. “Hey, just in case, okay?” he whispered and Pepper nodded again. “You're doing good. And now, let's get you out.” He smiled reassuringly and went back to the door. No one was outside and she followed him as quiet as possible. She was astounded that a man of Clint's build could move without a sound and all that in combat boots. 

Outside of the room she could see that they were in something like an old, probably abandoned, nuclear bunker. She saw signs with precautions in case of an radioactive contamination at the walls.

Clint went to one of the corners and peered around and moved after nodding at her. They went along the corridor and turned again but then he held up his hand, clenched into a fist. 

He cursed silently in a language Pepper was pretty sure she never had heard before and turned to her. 

“They have found the guys I've knocked out,” he explained quietly. “Stay here! Don't move, no sound.” He waited a second till she had nodded and then he went around the corner. Pepper carefully looked and her eyes went wide. 

In the small hallway were about fifteen guys with guns and they all turned and raised their weapons when they spotted Clint. The archer moved really fast into a handspring, another one, a somersault over the head of one of the guys and when he landed on one knee – Tony's typical Iron Man landing pose, Pepper realized – the guy he had jumped over crumbled down with a snapped neck. Clint was surrounded by the other fourteen guys but he moved so fast, he threw the first knife he had in his hand and one guy fell down, he pulled another knife out of his tac vest, rose and made a half-turn and one of them held his throat and Pepper saw the blood run over his hands. Clint went down in a dive roll and when he came up one man had a knife sticking in his chest. The archer pulled out another knife – how many of them did he have? – and threw it while he made another half-twist and slit the next man's throat. The evil guys tried to land blows themselves but Clint moved too fast for them. About twenty seconds later he was the only one still standing and he didn't even breathe faster. And the deadly expression he had on his face scared her, she had to admit. 

“Pepper,” he said and she came into the hallway. Less than thirty seconds and fifteen dead men. She swallowed when Clint grabbed all his knifes. “The exit is over there but it's quite possible that they have heard us.” 

They hurried to the other corridor and – as expected – there were about ten guys, waiting with raised guns and this time they didn't have the moment of surprise on their side. 

“Back to the end of the corridor, wait there for me,” he whispered, took three of his throwing knifes and leaned around the corner for a second. And then Pepper heard painful groans and guns clatter to the floor. But she also heard steps and Clint ran in her direction, grabbed her hand and pulled her around the corner. They were back in the hallway with the dead guys and Clint grabbed two of the guns, lying at the floor and turned back. 

“Get down!” he snarled but there wasn't anything to hide behind and so she just went down onto the floor. She heard steps, gunfire and more screams, she heard Clint cursing and then it went quiet. 

“Okay,” the archer said, threw the guns away and once again held throwing knifes in his hand. But she also saw blood run along his arm. When they turned around the corner Pepper saw the guys dead at the floor. “Come on.” 

Around the corner she could see the thick security door and the stairs behind. Clint nodded at her and she went through the door and up the stairs when she heard a sound behind them. Clint spun around in a fluid motion, went down on one knee and threw two knifes and the guys who wanted to follow them fell down, each one with a knife in the trachea. 

“Holy mother of god,” Pepper murmured but when Clint nodded again she hurried up the stairs. They just opened the outer door when Pepper heard a familiar sound. Iron Man's repulsors and Tony landed beside her. He flipped open his faceplate. 

“How...” he started but then he saw Clint appear behind Pepper and raised his brow. “How did you find her?” Tony asked instead the younger man behind his fiancé. 

“I know people, Stark.” Clint only shrugged and looked over the cut he had on his arm. “Where are the others, by the way?” 

“Right here,” Steve said and came over to the hidden entrance of the old bunker. 

“Do you have a band-aid?” Clint looked at the super soldier and pointed at his arm. 

“Did you...” Steve asked and Pepper nodded. 

“Yes, he freed me. And... and it was quite spectacular.”

“That's my job.” Clint shrugged again. 

“Okay.” Steve huffed. “Clint, Pepper, go to the quinjet, Bruce can patch you up, Stark, Romanov, with me. We take a look if there's someone left.” 

“Fine.” Clint didn't complain. He just took the knife he had given Pepper and put it back in his tac vest before he turned to walk to the quinjet together with Pepper.

“Hey, Clint,” Tony said and Clint looked over his shoulder. “Thank you.” 

Clint smiled, nodded once. “Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> [asamandra on tumblr](http://asamandra.tumblr.com/)


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